


Pride in You

by TheButterflySings



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Fandral is Dashing, Fluff, Hidden Relationship, Jealous Thor, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Secret Relationship, Smut, Thorki - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 03:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9530576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheButterflySings/pseuds/TheButterflySings
Summary: "Are you bitter with me, brother?"Loki looked away, though the smile didn't slip at all. He shook his head once, laughing quietly. "Of course I am. How jealous I am of you, brother. But I have waited for this day for you all of my life. It was always known who would take the throne, and, envious though I may be, my outstanding emotion today is pride."





	1. Pride in You

Thor paced mindlessly throughout his bedchambers, his breathing short and harsh. It was not nerves, no matter what Frigga and Fandral and Volstagg might say. He was not nervous for this. And yet, he could not force his body to settle, to relax, to sit. And so he paced, likely wearing heavy boot prints into the floor of his chambers. He would walk himself into a rut, he thought, if he didn't stop, and still his mind did not relax.  
  
He'd been pacing for the better part of an hour when his door opened with a telling rumble. Stopping in his tracks, he turned, dimly aware of the dull ache in the back of his legs. He needed to sit. He didn't, still, too preoccupied with who had appeared in the doorway of his bedchambers.  
  
"You are not supposed to be here, Loki," Thor chastised lightly, though the words held absolutely no heat. As if Thor would ever truly turn away the company of his brother. One of Loki's thin eyebrows arched finely, and he took a step back, out of the doorway and into the hall behind him.  
  
"I could leave--"  
  
"No, no you don't," Thor interrupted, moving to sit on the edge of his bed and waving one hand to motion for Loki to come join him.  
  
As Loki entered the room with all the ease and grace of the lithe dancer's form that he had, Thor looked his fill. He had never been shy about looking at Loki when they were alone like this, because Loki liked it, and truly, Loki was too beautiful not to look at. If Thor were not meant to be in the spotlight this day, Loki would take it all, and without trying. He was long and graceful, thin, toned and slender, with the most piercing of emerald eyes. The soft smile that curved on his lips was one of pure happiness, something Loki so rarely showed, and it made his face youthful, bright, and brilliant.  
  
Sitting beside Thor, the younger man turned that brilliant smile upon him, his head tilting slightly. "You are nervous." It wasn't a question, because it didn't need to be. Loki knew him, and Thor had never been able to lie to his brother.  
  
"Yes," Thor admitted anyway, tapping his fingers anxiously against the trousers he was wearing. "I am nervous."  
  
"You shouldn't be. You have waited for this day all your life."  
  
Though Loki's voice remained light, not at all angered in anyway, Thor still searched his face for any sign of bitterness. He knew that Loki was jealous in his way. He knew that Loki had desired the throne. He wondered, in his mind, if Loki was unhappy with what would happen today. He could not placate Loki's bitterness on the matter. But looking into the soft jade eyes, Thor found nothing but simple honesty and innocence. Nothing that meant anything, of course. Loki was skilled in hiding what he truly felt, but Thor had hope that this, at least, was sincere.  
  
"Are you bitter with me, brother?"  
  
Loki looked away, though the smile didn't slip at all. Even with that, Thor wasn't sure what to think. His brother was typically so carefully composed. He shook his head once, laughing quietly. "Of course I am. How jealous I am of you, brother. But I have waited for this day for you all of my life. It was always known who would take the throne, and, envious though I may be, my outstanding emotion today is pride."  
  
"Pride in me?" Thor asked, his eyes searching the profile of Loki's face. What, possibly, could Loki have found pride in that Thor had done? Loki was not so proud of battle the way that Thor was, nor did Thor possess the wit and intelligence of his younger brother-- as Loki took such pleasure in reminding him.  
  
"Pride in you," Loki confirmed, turning back to him. One of Loki's hands, small and pale, with long, thin fingers, moved to rest on Thor's cheek lightly, his thumb stroking against his jaw in slow, soothing strokes. "You are made to be king, Thor Odinson, and you will hold your throne well. Besides, you will have me to keep you in your place when your own foolishness gets the better of you." This was a jest, clearly, as was displayed by the hint of mirth in Loki's eyes, and the teasing smile upon his lips, and Thor could not help the low laugh that rumbled in his throat. But seriousness took over Loki's eyes again, and he continued quietly. "I have pride in you, Thor, greater than you could ever know."  
  
Thor closed his eyes, feeling the wave of warmth and happiness that crashed over him like a tidal wave. Loki had that effect on him. He used to think that it was something Loki had done, some trick, some enchantment, some spell. Because surely, surely Thor could not care so deeply, so intensely for what Loki thought. Surely Loki could not have such an effect on him-- the effect to both rile him up to his angriest point, and to calm him down to his most pliable. It was only much later that Thor realized what it was; plainer than day, he had fallen in love with his brother somewhere down the road.  
  
He'd been so ashamed of himself, disgusted and angry and downright volatile when he'd put a name to his feelings. He'd avoided Loki for as long as he possibly could, taking as many common whores to his bed as was possible to try and sate what he felt for his brother-- his own blood! By Valhala, he was repulsive. And then Loki had cornered him with no escape and demanded, angrily, to know what he had done wrong.  
  
+++  
  
_"What have I done?" Loki demanded yet again, and his voice was raised now, to the point of yelling, echoing throughout Thor's bedchamber like they were in a great canyon, but beneath all the heat and all the venom that Loki's silver tongue dripped into those words, he could not hide the way that his voice cracked. He sounded on the verge of tears, and Thor's heart lurched._  
  
_"You've done nothing, Loki," Thor murmured, trying to sound soothing, but it came out weak. Pathetic._  
  
_"Oh, yes, because you have always avoided me like I'm some commonplace wench vying for your attention," Loki seethed, and Thor didn't have to look at him to see the rage that would be darkening those devilish emerald eyes of his, emerald eyes that Thor had to try so hard not to get lost in._  
  
_"It would be better if you were!" Thor shot back, unable to help the bellow that came unbidden from his lips. He turned suddenly, looking at his brother now. He shouldn't have. Loki looked absolutely shattered, defeated, his shoulders slumping. Hurt and confusion fought for dominance on his face._  
  
_"So you would prefer the company of... of some slut, to me? Of course you would, wouldn't you? Mighty Thor Odinson, desperately seeking the company of harlots over that of his own brother, tossing aside the one who has always, always--"_  
  
_"If you were just a commonplace wench, it would not be so repulsive for me to feel what I do!" Thor shouted, and-- fuck._  
  
_He hadn't meant to say that. He hadn't meant to even think it. The admission hung tense and heavy in the air between them, suffocating. Loki's eyes had widened, and his face was flushed a lovely pale pink that Thor decided suited him beautifully. His pretty lips were parted with shock; for once, his silver tongue did not fashion a suitable response. It would be better, Thor thought, if he could respond, if he could just throw his hatred out there at Thor, get it over with. The silence was worse than anything Loki could say to him, any hatred Loki could force out._  
  
_"Oh," Loki said, and it was merely an exhale of breath before he was surging forward, and suddenly, Thor's arms were full of a lithe, effeminate form, and Loki was laughing against his shoulder. "You are so... so... cluelessly hopeless," he whispered between laughs. And then he tilted his head up and pressed his lips against Thor's._  
  
_And Thor, to his credit, just shut up and went along for the ride._  
+++  
  
They had to hide it now. They didn't have a choice. But it was something wonderful, and beautiful, and Thor wouldn't change it for anything.  
  
"Thor?"  
  
Thor blinked a couple times, coming back to reality. "What?"  
  
Loki's laugh was full and amused, one eyebrow quirking slightly. "Not all here? Tell me you've at least saved some of your higher brain functions for your coronation. You don't have all that much to spare."  
  
"Shut up, Loki," Thor responded, but he was grinning now, too, his nerves of what this day held finally at ease. Loki had a way of doing that. "Be sincere, please."  
  
"I have been fully sincere in all that I have said, brother," Loki replied easily, standing and extending a hand to pull Thor to his feet. He stood in front of Thor then, a full head shorter and so much smaller than Thor's massive size. His hands reached out, straightening out the red cape that Thor donned, something soft in his eyes. He turned and walked to the table, lifting from it Thor's winged helmet, bringing it back to him. He knelt at one knee, instantaneously sending Thor's head to a far, far less clean place.  
  
"Loki..."  
  
"After the ceremony," Loki promised, the wicked amusement in his voice telling Thor that he was not unaware of where the soon-to-be-king's mind was. "Take your helmet."  
  
Thor did, holding it between his hands with a small smile. Loki stood straight again, exhaling a small sigh, and Thor nodded once. "Thank you, Loki."  
  
Loki smiled, soft and kind and true. "In all that I say and all that I do, never doubt my love for you, Thor Odinson." He pushed up just enough to press a chaste, gentle kiss to Thor's lips, easing whatever was left of Thor's nerves. "Now," he whispered softly, "go out there and make me proud. My king."


	2. Taste That Silver Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How jealous would he get if I were to kiss those soft lips and taste that silver tongue? Would he kill me?"

The reception of Thor's coronation was blinding and deafening all together, and Loki could barely stand to be present through the loud noise, louder music, and drunken fools, though he knew that he could not just up and leave. He had to stay to support his brother-- his lover. In public, it would shame Thor for his younger brother, the noble Asgardian prince, to leave the grand celebration. In private, Thor would feel pained and emasculated if his lover walked out on it all, though he would not admit to such things. And Loki did not like seeing Thor when he pouted so. So Loki stayed, sitting down the table from Thor and remaining silent as his brother and their friends regaled vast tales of conquests past.

It was all so trivial, in Loki's opinion. Long fingers picked apart the food he'd taken from the lavish feast, and he refused the wine that was offered to him by a pale-haired servant boy with wistful eyes and blushing cheeks. He wasn't one for getting so drunk that he couldn't see or stand or talk, unlike Thor and their oafish friends. He had drank enough of the sweet wine to wet his tongue, and that was enough. The others did not have the same self-control. Thor was at least a glass of wine and two mugs of ale in, and his cheeks were growing pink with heat, his eyes wild and a little rowdy. 

It was okay, though, at least in Loki's opinion. Because, despite the fact that Loki would have to all-but carry their new king to his bedchamber (a fact that had him both internally and externally rolling his eyes), he got to appreciate this view of Thor coming so undone in the public eye. It was a lovely thing. His golden hair was loose around his shoulders, out of the loose ponytail he'd had it in, and it was disheveled, tangled. His eyes were bright, electric blue, piercing even from the distance between himself and Loki. His cheeks were pink with alcohol consumption, and Loki couldn't help but snicker a little.

"Enjoy the festivities, Loki," Frigga said lightly as she gently touched her younger son's cheek. Loki knew that she was growing tired of Thor's outlandishness as he was, but she was their mother, and would never speak so out loud. "No matter how envious you might be, you are still the prince of Asgard, and you should enjoy the celebration as such."

"I do not make a fool of myself with such drunken stupidity," Loki responded snidely. "And besides, someone has to make sure that Thor can stumble to his bedchamber tonight." That someone didn't have to be him, but they both knew that it would be.

"You are a good brother to him, Loki," Frigga replied in a soft voice as she stood to leave the table, one hand stroking through Loki's hair gently, and Loki smiled his gratitude. If only she knew, he supposed, she would not be quite so accepting. Frigga departed, and Loki turned back to the food at hand.

"Perhaps I should cut him off," Loki said loftily to Fandral, who was sitting beside him at the table, drinking from his own goblet of wine. 

The fair-haired warrior laughed, full and loud, from the very pit of his belly, a laugh that had won over many women and men alike. "Do not ruin his fun, Loki. However, if you are bored with the festivities, perhaps you would join me in a dance."

Sitting up a little straighter, Loki stared. He wondered how far Fandral the Dashing was into his drink, that he would ask the prince to dance. Especially to music like what was playing, that was more suited to something close to a waltz, a lover's dance. It wasn't that Fandral wasn't every bit as dashing as his moniker suggested-- he was toned and fair-skinned, lovely blond curls and absolutely stunning eyes that looked like molten gold in the dim lighting of the hall, and Loki had certainly heard of the tales of his many conquests from very satisfied lovers-- but....

Loki's eyes slid to Thor. Thor, in his grand attire, sitting nobly now as the king of Asgard at the head of the feast table, boasting in his stories, with those dazzling blue eyes and menacing bulk and... And, obviously, Loki was not the only one who had been paying attention. Of course, Loki knew that everyone noticed Thor, even before he was king. Now, it was just doomed to get worse. Everyone wanted to bed the young, unmarried king. Every woman wanted to become his wife.

Currently, it was a scantily clad brunette. She was a dancer provided for the coronation, and a concubine alike. She was wearing what was little more than ruby undergarments, with sheer lace over the top. The same sheer red fabric hung down the back of her legs, split open in the front, and she was barefoot. Gold jewelry, with glistening rubies, adorned her wrists, neck, and ankles, and she was smiling seductively. Her lips were painted a vivid red. Red was Thor's favorite color, of course.

Loki burned with barely concealed rage at the sight of it. Well, so be it. If Thor sought his pleasure elsewhere-- and he didn't miss the way that Thor's eyes traveled the whore's body-- then so too, would Loki. He stood with easy grace, turning with a soft smile to the warrior still sitting beside him. "I would quite enjoy a dance with you, warrior," he answered lightly, allowing his voice to slip into a soft, easy purr.

A truly dazzling smile took the warrior's face as they walked together out to the open area of the room, where many had taken to dancing through the celebration. One of Fandral's hands curled around Loki's, larger and warmer than Loki's cool, slender hands, but thinner than Thor's thick fingers. The other hand came to rest, hot and heavy, on the small of Loki's back, pulling their chests flush together. Loki moved his free hand to Fandral's shoulder and allowed the other to begin pulling him through the three-step waltz with practiced ease.

Fandral certainly was the best dancer in all of Asgard, Loki thought as they twirled effortlessly to the music. Loki was not inexperienced in dance, himself, but he did not match Fandral's easy grace and cool confidence. Once, before he had loved Thor intimately, he would have desired Fandral as a lover. That time had passed, but it made it much simpler to be so close to the man, breathing in his scent.

"Tell me, Loki, how much of this is for his benefit?" Fandral asked, nodding over Loki's shoulder, and Loki turned his head to look. It was no question that he meant Thor, who was watching them, the concubine at his side forgotten. And offended by it, if the look on her face was any indication. Loki thought perhaps to chastise Fandral for using such familiarity with Asgardian royalty, but that would get them nowhere. He'd never called Loki by a proper title, and yet, still respected Loki more than many others.

Loki turned back to meet Fandral's eyes. "I don't know what you mean," he lied smoothly, and Fandral smiled, amusement clear on the planes of his attractive face.

"You think that I don't know that you are coupled? That I don't see it in how he looks at you? How you look at him? I do, and I do not care. In fact, it is a part of my mind when I retire to my chambers alone," Fandral replied easily, "and perhaps I would not mind watching-- or joining-- you two some night if you are feeling particularly generous. The mighty king and his consort prince, who would not desire to join that?"

Loki gaped, his nails curling in the tunic that Fandral was wearing. The thought had... merit, he had to admit, and oh, he wouldn't complain if Fandral ever did join them. "Then why... If you knew..."

"To make him jealous," Fandral jested in a purely jovial tone. "You do so enjoy seeing our good king riled up, don't you? I admit, part of me also desired to have you close, and I'll admit further that I regret not taking you when I still had the chance, but now... Well, now, I would very much like to see how this plays out."

Loki laughed then, his head tipping back. "And you call me the Trickster," he taunted lightly, and Fandral's answering smile was charming. Truly, Fandral the Dashing. Loki could admit that this man was a truly beautiful speciman. He wouldn't object to remaining close for a while longer, but he could hear the song drawing to a close. It would be changing to something faster, something less appropriate for such a manner of dance.

"How jealous would he get if I were to kiss those soft lips and taste that silver tongue? Would he kill me?" Fandral asked. His tone was lower now, his eyes darkening slightly as his eyes flicked down to Loki's lips, and something in the prince's stomach twisted. Their faces were much closer now, and he could almost taste the wine on Fandral's breath. He wondered how much of this was truly Fandral's desire, and how much was just the sweet lull of the alcohol, drawing him to the first pretty body. He found that he most certainly did not care for the answer, as long as Fandral looked at him in such a way.

Keeping his voice casual, Loki blinked innocently. "I have no doubt that you could be quick enough to evade him, but perhaps you're better off not risking it."

"Perhaps," Fandral agreed, and he stepped away as the music drew to a close. He held onto Loki's hand a moment longer, raising it to his lips and pressing a light kiss to the soft skin. "Thank you for the dance, my prince," he said nobly, and he winked, his eyes flicking up over Loki's shoulder again. 

Loki inclined his head respectfully before turning away-- right into the massive form of the newly crowned king. The most undignified noise slipped from his lips as he steadied himself with his palms flat against Thor's broad chest, blinking in surprise. "My king," he purred once he gathered his higher functions again, staring innocently up into the stormy eyes of the Thunder God.

"Loki," he rumbled, and Loki couldn't fight the instinctive shudder.

Oh, this was going to be good, much better than Loki could have expected. He would have to thank Fandral for this, and profusely. Thor had drawn himself to his full size, towering over Loki. His mass was intimidating, his voice like the calm before the storm, and his eyes the color of fiercely pulsing electricity. Oh, he was angry. He was jealous. And Loki absolutely loved it, all of it.

"Did you want something, Highness?" Loki asked in a sarcastically charming voice, because he knew exactly why Thor had approached him.

"Perhaps you should retire to your bedchamber for the night, Loki," Thor gritted out, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he glared at the smaller man. Loki blinked in feigned surprise, but he knew that this was a silent order-- an order for Loki to go to Thor's bedchamber, the king's bedchamber now, and wait for him.

"Why would I do that? Fandral and I were having such fun."

Thor's jaw clenched again, eyes sparking like the lightning he controlled. "You have forgotten your pride, prince," he hissed softly, "allowing yourself to be pressed all up to a man like you were some kind of tavern wench for his pleasure. I am sure that it is simply the alcohol you have consumed, and you will remember your nobility tomorrow. To your chambers with you."

Loki drew his tongue over his lower lip slowly, looking up through his lashes at Thor's wine-reddened lips and shocking blue eyes. "As you wish, my lord," he purred silkily, and he sauntered away, his hips swinging seductively as he exited the reception hall to make his way to the king's bedchambers.

This was going to be a good night. One that Loki would not soon forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to be all Loki/Fandral, I swear.
> 
> Comment and stuff. Let me know if you loved it, hated it, anything else.


End file.
